


He Had It Coming

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (really mild breathplay), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Castiel, Breathplay, Collars, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Explicit Protection, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Past Abuse, Past Castiel/Michael (Supernatural), Punishment, Scars, Spanking, Sub Castiel, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Cas swore not to talk to his ex dom, Michael. He violated that promise. He needs to be punished.





	He Had It Coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZarauthForsaken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarauthForsaken/gifts).



> Fic written to the prompt: 13 AU, 14 Kink, Destiel, TopDom!Dean/BottomSub!Cas it is, then! :D ♥ Almost forgot! No tools! Just hands! More intimate and personal that way :3 (And won't risk seriously injuring the Sub when the Doms hand starts to feel like it's on fire XD) Thanks! ♥  
> (13 is College AU, 14 is Spanking)

“Oh, Cas,” Dean sighed. Despite the collar adorning Cas’ neck, supposedly a sign of his acquiescence to be dominated, Cas stared at Dean defiantly. “You knew the rules.”

“Yes, sir,” snapped Cas.

_So much spirit...so much strength…_

_...I can’t wait to make him beg for my forgiveness…_

“Explain why you violated my orders.”

“You don’t control who I speak with.” Cas paused _just_ long enough for Dean to be positive the delay was intentional. “Sir.”

“When you’re wearing my collar, I do.” Dean rose and circled Cas, running his hand over the cool metal studs, skimming his finger between the collar and Cas’ neck. The thick leather bound Cas closely enough that it bit into his throat, rapid breaths belying Cas’ presentation of steely calm. Pausing, Dean dug his thumb into Cas’ jugular, felt Cas’ racing pulse thrum through him.

“I wasn’t wearing your collar.” Cas swallowed, sounding petulant.

“No...of course you weren’t…” Dean removed his hand, tugging at the leather once as he did so, savoring the catch to Cas’ breath as his air was cut off momentarily. “Don’t pretend this rule was my idea. _You_ wanted help ensuring you wouldn’t approach Michael again. _You_ asked for me to add this control - called it ‘essential,’ if I recall. Yet, today, you spoke to him…” Circling back to Cas’ front, Dean inspected Cas’ face critically. “...kissed him, unless I miss my guess…” There was telltale redness along Cas’ chin, on his cheek, above his lip. They rarely had time to scene during the week, classes interfered too much, but it was Monday morning. Cas had been Dean’s all weekend, and Dean knew every blemish, recognized every bruise, every scratch, every mark he’d left behind.

At least Castiel looked ashamed of himself.

“Why. Did. You. Violate. My. Orders.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Cas.

“Of course it does!”

“You’ll punish me regardless.”

“...okay, fair, yeah, I will, but still. You went back to him. You cheated on me. You owe me an explanation!”

“I owe you nothing save what I choose to grant you. Sir.”

Dean sighed. “That’s your final answer?” Cas didn’t reply, meeting Dean’s eyes with confidence. “Fine. My forgiveness _can_ be earned.” _I care about you too much not to forgive you, Cas...especially when I’m sure there must have been extenuating circumstances._ “Strip.” _What I can’t figure is why you won’t_ tell me _what those extenuating circumstances_ were _._

Cas obeyed with alacrity, tension leaving his jaw, the set of his eyes easing. Until the muscles relaxed, Dean hadn’t realized how concerned Cas was over the outcome of their conversation.

_Whatever happened with Michael, Cas was prepared to have it destroy his relationship with me. What would he have done if I hadn’t overlooked him going behind my back?_

Cas unbuttoned his white shirt and shrugged out of it, tugged his undershirt over his head, toed his shoes off, undid his belt and dropped his pants. As he did, Dean grabbed a sock, opened the door just enough to put it over the hallway knob, and locked it behind them. He hastily cleared his papers and laptop from his dorm desk as Cas stepped out of his underwear.

Naked, Castiel’s body was a record of their busy weekend. It was early in the semester, midterms still weeks away, finals a distant dream. They were seniors, well accustomed to the rhythms of campus life, and Cas lived off campus. It was easy enough to steal away, entertain each other, spend hours in self-indulgent sex. Dean had learned a simple shibari tie from Charlie and they’d experimented with that on Saturday; Sunday they’d played at house - Cas couldn’t find the motivation to clean his apartment, and desperately needed to, so Dean provided him _ample_ external motivation. Cas’ place was spotless. Cas’ knees were red from crawling on the floor, his ankles and elbows encircled with rope burns, his chest littered with small red hickies. His back was a maze of overlapping scars.

Those were _not_ Dean’s doing.

They were Michael’s.

 _Why the hell_ had Cas been speaking with Michael?

“I’m ready, sir,” said Cas. Dean looked at his face. Defiance remained, but so did acceptance, and a sense of ease. Resignation, perhaps. Cas’ cock was soft, limp between his legs, and his skin prickled goose pimples in the chill of the room.

“Rules,” Dean said gruffly. “You’re not coming, for one. Not today. Not after you let him touch you. That dick? Those nipples? Those lips? They’re _mine_ , not ‘cause I said so, but ‘cause _you_ said so. That you’re still standin’ here, wearin’ my collar, means you still want that - and so long as you want that, you will obey me or there’ll be hell to pay.” The longer Dean spoke, the calmer Cas became. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think Cas was already sinking into subspace. They’d been scening together for over two years, and dating for more than one, and Cas had _never_ gone all dopey in his happy place so quickly. “Second, you make a noise? I gag you. You make another? I see how tight I can make that collar before you start having trouble breathing.” Cas’ cock twitched, thickening. “Other than that...well, let’s see where the afternoon takes us.” They were both done with class until the following morning. Even had they not been...well, they’d discussed it previously, and in extraordinary circumstances, Dean could and had pulled Cas from class. Dean would never abuse that power, though, and it was a sign of Cas’ trust that he allowed Dean to do so at all. Cas’ education meant everything to him.

Which _again_ begged the question, why the _fuck_ had Cas been speaking with fucking _Michael_? He’d nearly dropped out his sophomore year because of that son of a bitch.

But Cas didn’t want to tell Dean.

That lack of trust stung, just as Cas’ allowing Dean to pull him from class gave Dean pride, but he’d never force Cas’ confidence.

Dean’s box of plaything was open on the bed; he grabbed a leash, attached it to Cas’ collar, and used a short lead to forcefully steer Cas to the desk. Hand to the back of Cas’ neck, he slammed Cas’ face into the wood, forcing a grunt from him.

“Cas…” Dean warned. No other sound followed, not even an acknowledgement. Appropriate, since Dean had told him not to make a noise, any noise. The position put Cas’ ass on display, cheeks smooth, stretched just enough apart to show the pucker of his hole. Arousal simmered through Dean’s veins, and after a brief deliberation, he grabbed the lube. Prep Cas first, _then_ punish him, _then_ fuck him. Let Cas thinking he’d be getting off lightly - not that he’d be getting off at all, Dean chuckled - then let the punishment fit the crime.

They had sex frequently enough that large amounts of prep weren’t necessary. Dean slid a condom over two of his fingers, coated the condom in lube, traced a teasing line down the crack of Cas’ ass then slid his fingers in to the knuckle. Cas tensed, rim contracting around him, but he was silent - good boy, damn, the urge to praise him was strong, but Dean repressed it. Not now, not today, not when Cas had been anything _but_ a good boy. Dean went slowly, tortuously so, spreading the lubricant around, rubbing at Cas’ prostate, relishing the give of soft flesh under his fingers, the twitch of hard muscles in Cas’ back and arms and thighs, and the caught breaths suggesting sounds barely repressed. Dean slid his other hand between Cas’ legs, massaging his balls, running a thumb over the base of Cas’ thick erection until he was satisfied that Cas was thoroughly aroused, hard, needy.

He pulled his finger out.

He removed and chucked the condom.

He took a step back and surveyed his sub. Cas didn’t move save for the rise and fall of his back as he inhaled and exhaled. His face was invisible, his once neat hair made messy by Dean’s earlier aggressive push. Fuck, Dean wanted him, and while Dean _wanted_ to be a wellspring of understanding, of forgiveness, he couldn’t deny...he was pissed. He _hurt_ . Those scars over Cas’ back...Dean had once vowed _never again_ , sworn to Cas that Dean would protect him, that Dean would never, ever, under _any_ circumstance, hurt Cas as Michael had. Cas had preened under that attention, looked up at Dean doe-eyed and gorgeous, and promised to behave, to obey, to serve, and to accept the consequences should he fail.

Dean hurt, and he wanted Cas to hurt also. Stretching out his fingers, clenching them into a fist, stretching them once more, Dean stepped to Cas’ side, did two slow, testing strokes with his arm, stopping short of contact, and then--

_Smack!_

The first strike of Dean’s hand on Cas’ butt tingled up Dean’s arm, caused Cas to arch off the bed with a hiss of pain. The cheek Dean hit grew rosy red as Dean waited and watched, patient, anticipatory.

_Smack!_

The second hit landed on the opposite cheek, and again Dean waited. This was _punishment_. He needed Cas nervous, uncertain. He needed Cas regretful, apologetic.

Dean _needed_ Cas.

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

He spanked each cheek in quick succession, waited only long enough for the palm of his hand to stop stinging before he did so again. He didn’t count aloud - he didn’t want Cas keeping track, didn’t want Cas guessing how long before the blows would fall. Every strike pushed Cas against the hard corner of the desk, ground Cas’ erection into the facing drawer.

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

Dean slid a hand between Cas’ legs roughly, gave his cock a single stroke - still hard, pre-come smeared wet over the wood despite the blows. Cas breathed hard, his ass crimson, his hole clenching and unclenching and gleaming with lubricant.

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

The first ten count seemed a good place to give Cas a moment to recover. He’d been remarkably obedient so far - quiet, not betraying his pain aside from with a jerk of his back and bounce of his knees as each blow fell. His reticence made Dean unreasonably anger. Usually, Dean wanted Cas to succeed at their scenes, got off on Cas pushing himself beyond his stated limits to obey. Not today, Dean wanted Cas to crack, wanted him to make noise, wanted an excuse to gag Cas, wanted an excuse to wrap his hands around Cas’ neck and feel his throat flutter under the strength of Dean’s grip.

That last...that scared him.

Dean might want that, on some level, but he wouldn’t do that...never...not to Cas, not to anyone. He wanted control - craved it - got off on obedience, but _actually_ endangering someone to that extent? That wasn’t Dean.

Dean wasn’t Michael.

Dean would never fucking become Michael.

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

Dean’s hand burned by the time he stopped, his arm ached, his chest heaved from the effort he extended, putting enough strength behind the slaps for them to be forceful, restraining himself just enough to not hurt Cas. Cas trembled against the desk, whimpering, his face turned enough that Dean could see the hair sweat-matted to his forehead, the tears streaking his cheeks, the wet spot made where he’d mouthed at the desktop.

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

“Dean!”

_Smack!_

A sob tore from Cas and Dean froze. Cold sweat trailed down Dean’s cheek, his arm shook, and he barely restrained himself. Something wild unfolded in his chest, furious and scrambling for freedom. He took a deep breath to calm himself, another, another, until he felt his self-control returning. Aside from his single outburst, Cas’ sobs were silent but continual. His ass was dark, a bruise blossoming purple on one cheek merely from the force of Dean’s hand.

Cas’ cock was still hard.

“You spoke,” said Dean, his voice raspy, his throat dry. His dick was hard in his pants, the jeans’ zipper digging into the sensitive flesh. Cas conceded the accusation with a nod, snuffling as he struggled to clear his nose. Dean mirrored the nod, retrieved Cas’ dirty tighty whities from the floor, and rubbed them beneath Cas’ nose until Cas reluctantly opened his mouth so Dean could stuff them within. Gagging, Cas blinked, eyes wide and awash in tears and sightless, and Dean waited impatiently for him to calm.

Cas hadn’t been punished enough.

Almost.

But not yet.

_Dammit, now that he’s gagged, he won’t be able to beg._

_So bet it._

Grabbing one of Cas hands, Dean placed it so that Cas’ fingers curled over his butt cheek, grabbed the other hand to cup the other cheek, and pushed at them until Cas got the message that Dean wanted him to hold the cheeks apart, to spread them wide, to expose his sensitive hole to the cold air. Cas squeezed his eyes shut as he obeyed, perhaps anticipating what was to come, perhaps simply overwhelmed by sensation - after the spanking he’d taken, it must hurt to move that flesh. Whimpers caught in Cas’ throat, soft, making his adam’s apple bob, and the white fabric sticking out between his lips darkened as spit soaked through.

Dean squatted down, examined Cas’ hole, let his breath wash over the skin so Cas would know he was there, so Cas would wonder.

Dean rose.

Dean flexed his hand once more. His fingers ached, his palm hurt, a sure sign he should stop soon, lest he injure Cas.

But stop _soon_.

Not. quite. Yet.

_ Smack! _

Dean drew his hand back and smacked Cas’ ass, smacked the area that Cas pulled taut and the quivering, wrinkled skin around the hole. Cas choked, eyes flying open as he reared off the desk.

_ Smack! _

Cas had scarcely relaxed when Dean struck him again; this time he went limp, writhing against the wood. Dean knew how much such a hit hurt - had experienced it himself, never did  _ anything  _ to a sub that he’d not felt on his own body - and knew how impressive it was that despite his obvious agony, Cas yet held his cheeks spread wide.

Dean wasn’t the only one who thought Cas yet deserved punishment.

_ Smack! _

Cas’ fingers scrambled at his flesh, pressing white lines into the reddened skin.

_ Smack! _

Cas’ legs went boneless, only the desk supporting him.

_ Smack! _

Cas’ hands fell away, slumped to his sides.

Even if Cas hadn’t let go of his ass cheeks, Dean wouldn’t have continued. Placing a soothing hand on the small of Cas’ back, Dean resisted the urge to murmur reassurance to him, to tell him that no more blows were coming. No more  _ were  _ coming, but the uncertainty was part of Cas’ punishment, and a well earned part. Dean would have to live with the uncertainty of not ever learning what had passed between Cas and Michael that day. Let Cas worry for five minutes if Dean was going to resume spanking him.

Slowly, Cas calmed. Sweat spots dried over his spine, under his arms, along the nape of his neck. He cried softly, but no further sobs escaped him, nor did any more sounds. God, he was so fucking beautiful, so obedient. Cas’ words - his refusal to share - had felt like a betrayal, but Cas’ behavior now was an apology, a request for forgiveness, as eloquent as if Cas had gotten on his knees and professed himself unworthy of Dean’s more tender ministrations.

Cas  _ was  _ worthy.

Dean  _ did  _ trust him.

Unzipping his fly, Dean withdrew his dick, hard since he’d struck the first blow. He drew a second condom from his pile, rolled it down his length, and squirted a dollop of lube on himself. Waiting - assessing - no, it didn’t appear Cas had heard the sound, or if he had, he hadn’t understood its meaning - he positioned himself behind Cas, lined himself up with Cas’ hole, and used a hand to guide his dick into place as he pushed forward. 

Cas gasped as Dean breached him.

The remnants of his anger prevented Dean from speaking how good he felt and his appreciation, but he curled his hands gently around each of Cas’ shoulders, pressed his clothed chest against Cas’ bare back, and embedded himself deep in Cas’ willing body. Cas shuddered, trembling beneath him, trembling  _ around  _ him, fuck that felt weird and  _ good _ .

“Don’t. Come.”

Dean straightened, drew himself back, back, back, until only the tip of his dick remained in Cas, his reddened length trapped between Cas’ cheeks, the angry red and purple of Cas’ abused ass seeming to throb with pain.

_ I did that to him. _

_ He let me do that to him. _

_ Fuck. yes. _

Dean slammed his hips forward. The table legs shrieked as the desk scraped an inch forward over the tiled floor. Cas grunted, tried to rise, and Dean wrapped an arm around his neck, locked his elbow, held him down, pulled out and thrust in again. Dean wasn’t a rough dom, not usually, but today was different in so many ways, and fuck if it wasn’t  _ amazing  _ to let himself go, if it wasn’t amazing to treat Cas’ tight, slickened little hole as if it were a woman’s wet pussy dripping just for him and fuck Cas as hard as he wanted to. Lube squelched, skin slapped on wood, and the rough fabric of Dean’s jeans abraded Cas’ ass. Pressure built in Dean - more than pleasure, for there was anger in him too, and vindication, and premature satisfaction, and delight, and possessiveness, and jealousy. The scars on Cas’ back were a taunt, a constant reminder of what Cas had let another man exact from him, a constant reminder of how fragile Cas was and how easy it would be to hurt him. But Cas didn’t protest, didn’t safe word. Dean reached between Cas’ body and the desk to grope Cas’ dick - slamming his knuckles against the drawer with each thrust - and confirmed that Cas was still hard, might even be close to an orgasm.

_ He told me what it was like for him with Michael, how often he submitted to punishments that didn’t arouse him.  _

_ Not like this - they weren’t like this - not like how it is between the two of us. _

_ This is what we do to each other. _

_ It’s...it was… _ “...fuckin’ glorious, Cas, fuck this is good. Never this…” Dean groaned. “Never this Goddamn tight for me...bet it hurts…” He squeezed the tortured flesh of Cas’ ass and Cas whimpered. 

“...bet you wanna come so…” 

Thrust. 

“...fucking…” 

Thrust. 

“...bad…” 

Cas keened agreement around his gag, body going rigid around Dean, and it was too much - not enough - more than he could take - and with another groan the room whited out as he filled the condom. His hips stuttered through weak after-shocks, taunting him with additional stimulation, before he finally went still, breathing hard. Cas lay still save for the quick breaths that lifted and lowered his back, eyes squeezed shut, arms draped over the end of the table. It was an effort for Dean to relax his fingers and release his hold on Cas’ neck. The studs of the collar left imprints on his palm.

Dean shoved a hand between Cas’ legs and fondled him. Cas was hard, cock hot and damp with sweat and early release. A single stroke teased a broken noise from Cas, but Dean didn’t push him further, didn’t punish him for his infraction. Cas had done enough.

Leaning forward, Dean embraced Cas’ back, gently kissed his shoulder, and whispered, “I forgive you.”

Cas twisted beneath him and opened his eyes, staring into Dean’s face, and whatever he saw there reduced him to helpless tears.

“I forgive you,” Dean repeated, gathering Cas in his arms, helping him stand up straight. “I forgive you.” He tugged the wadded up, sodden underwear from Cas’ mouth. “I forgive you.” Uncontrollable shaking overtook Cas’ limbs, his legs unable to support his weight. “I forgive you.” 

Dean got an arm around Cas’ shoulders, scooped another beneath his knees, and lifted him in a princess carry. It was way fucking harder than it looked in the movies, and Cas was  _ heavy _ , but Dean got him to the narrow bed and even managed to set him down gently. He tried to straighten up and move away, but Cas clung to him, weak grip tangled in the fabric of Dean’s t- shirt.

“Hey, hey - it’s okay, I’m not going far - just wanna get a towel, and some lotion, and--”

“Stay,” Cas croaked.

“You need to drink something,” Dean scolded.

“Dean. Sir. Please…”

How was Dean supposed to say no to those perfect baby blues? With a gentle smile, he conceded with a nod and settled beside Cas. It was a tight fit, two grown men in a single twin bed, but they’d managed before, and they managed now. Cas curled up against him, still crying, and Dean held him close and murmured affection and forgiveness until Cas finally fell asleep.

Dean couldn’t sleep. The scene had triggered too many things within him. How angry he’d grown worried him, and he couldn’t sort through his morass of feelings to figure out how much had been annoyance with himself, how much had been worry about Cas, and how much had been jealousy of Michael. He’d spanked subs before, and punished them through other means as well, he’d never done so with such gusto. Dean was a dom but he wasn’t a sadist; he’d never yearned for another person to hurt before. The things Cas brought out in Dean scared him. There was no alternative, though. Either Dean had to grapple with his emotions, repress them, or leave Cas.

The last was inconceivable.

The second was a disservice to both himself and his boyfriend-cum-sub.

And so Dean grappled as the room slowly grew dark, as he began to worry about locking his roommate out - though it was probably cool, Benny spent most of his time at his girlfriends - and as the clocktower at the library struck the hour later and later.

“Are you well, Dean?” murmured Cas.

Surprised, Dean tensed the arm he had around Cas’ back, drew him closer, tousled his hair. “I’m fine, Cas. Are you ok?”

Cas nodded and silence fell once more between them. Voices passed by, laughing in the hallway, and somewhere beneath them, base thudded. 

“He said he’d hurt you.”

Dean’s blood went frigid, fury sweeping through him like a fucking avalanche.

“And I know...I  _ know _ ...that’s crazy, that he can’t...I mean...you’re not…” Cas choked up and Dean fought back his anger, struggled to keep himself soft and open. While Cas must know, objectively, that Dean’s ire wasn’t directed at him, Dean knew how Michael had treated Cas, knew that while they’d been together,  _ any  _ anger, no matter its initiating source, could lead to Cas being harmed. Cas and Dean had shared many late night talks about PTSD and trauma. So Dean seethed, and took slow even breaths, and ran a tender hand down Cas’ back, and waited with the semblance of patience, the words  _ I’m not upset with you, I’m upset with Michael  _ on the tip of his tongue. 

“I needed this reminder,” Cas explained. “That you weren’t vulnerable. That you were strong. That...that you’re  _ so much better  _ than he is.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m better,” said Dean. “I’m fucking awesome. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Yes, I am.” The utter sincerity in Cas’ reply stole Dean’s bravado, destroyed his anger, left him breathless and warmed through by affection. “I’m sorry, Dean. I should have told you, but I needed…” Cas shook his head against Dean’s chest.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dean said, “to give you what you need.” Though the words seemed flippant, Dean spoke them with the solemnity of a vow. Dean slid is arm down Cas’ scalp and awkwardly, one handedly undid his collar and tossed it and the attached leash aside. “I should be the one wearing this.”

Cas looked leaned up, looking down at Dean’s face, eyes puffy from crying, features shadowed in the faint light that spilled through the window overlooking the quad. “We could try that...sometime...if you wanted…” he suggested with a shy smile.

Dean met the smile with one of his own. “Anything for you.”

“Now I  _ know  _ that’s not true, you’ve got several things that interest me  _ greatly  _ on your ‘red light’ list.”

The contents of his list flashed through his memory, but his qualms and trust issues seemed meaningless compared to the fond look and broad grin spread over Cas’ face. “ _ Anything _ for you, Castiel.”

Cas blinked.

Cas leaned down and kissed him.

“I love you,” he murmured happily and slumped back against Dean’s chest.

And Dean slept easy.


End file.
